


I Didn't Mean To Hurt You

by wightfaerie



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 21:38:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1757633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wightfaerie/pseuds/wightfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a follow up piece to 'Did It Again'. </p>
<p>How is Hutch coping four years after Starsky ended their partnership and left Bay City?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Didn't Mean To Hurt You

 

[A Challenge for SH writers: Write a story with this picture as your muse.](http://nancys-soul.livejournal.com/847518.html)

This is a follow up piece to 'Did It Again', which was inspired by another picture challenge, this time a drawing by duluthgirl. If you haven't read the first story, I would suggest you do that before reading this one.

  
**I Didn't Mean To Hurt You**

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Starsk,” Hutch said, pointing at the imaginary Starsky standing in front of him in his living room. “I love you with all my heart and soul. All those women meant nothing to me. I hated every minute. And I loathed you being with them even more. I wanted to be in your arms, in your bed. I just wanted you to love me like you seemed to love them.” He sighed, shifting his position to help take the strain off of his back. “Kandy was the last in a long line of bimbos who weren’t right for you. Didn’t deserve to walk in your shadow.”

_And you did, Hutchinson? After what you did to me. Twice!_

How many times had he had this conversation with his absent partner? Too many. The outcome was always the same. He was here, alone, and Starsky was still in New York.

He closed his eyes. Four years. Four years since he’d acted on the stupidest idea that’d ever entered his head. The scene replayed in his mind.

***

_Starsky launched himself across the bedroom at Hutch. Their bodies clashed, rolled together, as Starsky pummeled Hutch with every ounce of anger that Hutch had manifested in his buddy. Starsky sitting next to the bed, exhausted. The questions that Hutch couldn’t answer. And that last fateful line as Starsky walked out of the door._

_“This partnership is over.”_

***  
Hutch squeezed the glass in his hand, almost spilling the finger of bourbon left in the bottom.

Starsky had never spoken truer words than he did that evening. The squeal of the Torino’s tires as Starsky drove away were the last thing Hutch had heard from him.

“Oh, Starsk. I didn’t mean to force you away. We were supposed to talk. I had hoped that you would tell me it was okay, that you loved me too.”

Hutch looked at Starsky. He never moved during these conversations. He just stood there listening to Hutch’s drunken apology over and over again.

“How did I get it so wrong, partner? You left me. Dobey told me the news. About the transfer request to New York, and you taking leave until a position was available.”

Hutch brushed away the tear that escaped from his left eye.

“He never asked what had happened, so I assumed that you’d told him all about it. Or maybe you hadn’t. Either way, he knew it was serious, you were serious. We were over.”

He took a sip of the fiery liquid. One in a long line of sips; his coping mechanism; the thing that got him through the night. The only way he could carry on living, if you could call it living with half of his soul gone.

“I took the Lieutenants exam. Like you always told me I would. I’m heading up the new cold case team these days. Means I don’t have to work with partners that twist my gut every time I look at them and see you instead.”

_This was all your doing, Hutchinson. Do you expect me to feel sorry for you?_

“No, Starsk. I want you to love me.”

Starsky disappeared, simply faded away.

This conversation always ended the same way. With Hutch drunk, alone, and hating himself more now than the day he ruined his friendship and partnership with the greatest guy in the world. All he wanted to do was to drop into oblivion.

***

“Hutch, Hutch.”

Hutch forced his eyes open a little, and tried to focus on the blurry figure in front of him. “Starsk.” This time, the Starsky apparition moved.

“Come on. Let’s get you sobered up.” He pulled Hutch up from the bed and led him into the bathroom.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you...” Hutch started the usual tirade. He was sick of hearing those words, but his drunken brain couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Shut up,” Starsky said angrily, as he tugged Hutch’s clothes off and manhandled him into the tub.

Hutch stared at his Starsky. What was happening? His Starsky stayed rooted to the one spot in the living room. Hutch’s brain was too haggled to work out why things had suddenly changed. Cold water hit his head and body. “What the fuck?” He struggled to back out of the spray. Strong hands held him in place, made him take the full force of the freezing stream. Slowly, the haze cleared and he looked into indigo pools; eyes that he hadn’t seen in four years. “Starsky?” he asked tentatively through chattering teeth.

“Yeah.” Starsky turned off the shower and handed him a towel. “Dry off. I’ll make some coffee.” He turned and strode out of the room.

Hutch leaned against the tiled wall. This was new. It was a dream, of course, it was a dream. But this wasn’t like any of his other dreams. He quickly rubbed his body dry, climbed out of the tub and put on his orange robe. It had seen better days, though who cared? Not him, and no one else saw him in it. He walked slowly into the living room, expecting Starsky to be gone.

“Sit down and drink this,” Starsky said from his seat at the kitchen table. He indicated to a steaming mug of black coffee.

Hutch obeyed the command, swaying slightly as he navigated the tilting floor and furniture. Jeez, he felt like shit. He dropped into the pulled out chair at the opposite end of the table from Starsky. Still not believing what he was seeing, Hutch lifted the cup to his lips and took a long sip, almost immediately spitting the boiling drink back into the cup. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“What d’ya expect, I just made it.” Starsky stared at Hutch. “You look awful.”

“Feel it.” Hutch touched his stinging upper lip. Realization hit and he gaped at Starsky. “This isn’t a dream, is it? You’re really here?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” Starsky smiled warily at Hutch, the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Cold blue looked back at him.

“Why?”

“Huggy. He called in a favor,” said Starsky in a mono tone.

“He could have asked me for help. He didn’t need to call you.” Hutch willed his brain to work. What favor could Starsky help Huggy with that he couldn’t?

“You can’t help yourself. Look at the state you’re in.”

Hutch recoiled at the venom in Starsky’s voice.

“You’re the one he needs help with. What you playing at?”

“I don’t need any help,” Hutch snarled. “Especially not from you.” He stood up, the chair legs scraping noisily along the wooden floor.

“Sit down and shut up,” Starsky demanded. “When was the last time you cleaned this place? When was the last time you ate? When was the last time you changed your clothes. When was the last time you went to work?”

The barrage of questions left Hutch reeling. He slumped back onto the chair. Starsky hadn’t lost any of his interrogation skills. “I...I...I.” He struggled to answer, coming up blank.  “What day is it?” was all he could manage.

“It’s Wednesday, June tenth,” Starsky supplied. He slurped his coffee, banging the mug onto the table. “Want me to answer the questions for you? You haven’t been to the precinct in over a week, so I’m guessing that’s about the same for the other questions.”

“That’s a crock of shit. I was in work yesterday. We closed a case, an eight year old murder.” Hutch could see the front of the file clearly. _Date closed: 06/02/83_. Damn. He scrubbed his hands over his face.

“You can’t go on like this, Hutch. It’s not the first bender you’ve been on, is it?”

“What do you care?” Hutch was starting to get pissed at Starsky. “What right do you have to come into my home and lecture me on what I can and can’t do? This is my life. You left.” He threw his mug at Starsky.

Starsky ducked out of the way. “Can you blame me? After what you did.”

“You didn’t have to run away. We could have sorted it out.”

“Fuck, Hutch. I wanted to kill you.” Starsky jumped out of his seat and paced the room. “I couldn’t stand to be in the same city as you. Hell, the same state. You hurt me.”

Hutch sunk into his chair. “I know.” The pain of what he did to Starsky was overwhelming. He got up and went to the fridge. Opening the door, he snagged a bottle of beer.

Starsky pounced on his back. “Oh, no, you don’t. Alcohol isn’t the answer.” He hurled the bottle into the sink, glass and liquid exploding, bomb-like.

“Then what is? Why are you even here?” Hutch shrugged Starsky off his back and strode into the greenhouse. “I’m not some charity case who needs to be saved.”

“That’s it. I’m outta here.”

_Don’t let him go now that he’s back. Don’t make the same mistake again._

“Starsk. Don’t go. Please.” Hutch ran into the living room.

Starsky had his hand on the door handle. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Because I love you,” Hutch blurted out, finally finding the words he should have said so long ago. “I always have, and you never loved me back. I didn’t want Kira or Kandy. I wanted you, and they had you.”

“That’s why you slept with them?” Starsky leaned against the door and started laughing hysterically.

“Starsk. You okay?” Hutch stood in the middle of the room with his arms by his sides. He desperately wanted to hug Starsky. For the first time in their friendship, and non-friendship, he wasn’t sure how to act, or how Starsky would react. What the hell. The worst Starsky could do was punch him again. That was better than nothing. He stepped forward.

Starsky held up his hand. “Stay there.” He looked Hutch up and down. “You hurt me because you loved me? Is that what you’re saying, buddy?”

_Buddy, he called me buddy._ “Yes.” Maybe there was hope; at least of renewing their friendship in some form. “I wanted to be with you, to be your lover.”

“You had a weird way of showing it.” Starsky pushed up off the door.

“I tried to tell you that night, but I couldn’t get the words out. Then you were gone.” He fingered his chest. “Dobey told me about the transfer. You didn’t give me another chance to explain.”

“You didn’t deserve it. You ripped my heart apart. I told Dobey that mom needed me home.” Starsky took a step toward Hutch. “I started driving back east the next day. I was so mad at you. It all happened so quickly. The NYPD offered me a position. Mom was happy to have me home.”

“And now?” Hutch held his breath, waiting for Starsky’s answer. He was here, thanks to Huggy. Did that mean what Hutch hoped that meant? Was he forgiven, or was Starsky merely honoring his obligation to an old friend?

“Huggy kept me informed over the years of your little escapades. Every time, I told him that you could go to hell for all I cared.” Starsky paused. “He was distraught when he called a coupla days ago. Said he thought that you’d finally gone over the edge. He’s worried about you.”

“Why did you come?”

“Huggy never sounded so lost. All the rage and hurt dissolved. I realized that I do care what happens to you. I know it won’t be easy, fixing the damage you’ve done to us.”

_Hope. He said fixing._ Hutch’s stomach began to roil. 

“Dobey’s put wheels in motion for me to join the cold case team. Not sure if I can work with that opinionated guy in charge, though.” He smiled at Hutch. A genuine, lop-sided, Starsky grin.

“Oh, God.” Hutch dove into the bathroom, just in time to lose the liquid contents of his gut into the can.

“I expected a little more enthusiasm to my announcement.” Starsky stood in the doorway, laughing. He walked over to Hutch and rubbed circles on his back. “I’m not promising anything yet. But we gotta start somewhere if we’re gonna sort out this mess.”

Hutch sat on his haunches, leaning heavily against Starsky’s leg. It felt so good to feel his strong presence where it belonged, by his side and watching his back.

The End


End file.
